


Haute Couture

by Limpet666



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Bearded!Obi-wan, Heavy Petting, Knight!Obi-Wan, M/M, Making out in a closet, Not crackfic, OC species, One Shot, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:46:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6497749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limpet666/pseuds/Limpet666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jedi are often expected to don disguises whenever the need may arise. This mission for Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi is no different, except for the matter of exactly who is being disguised. And how.</p><p>(Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi. Non-crackfic crossdressing.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haute Couture

**Author's Note:**

> As with all my Star Wars stories, everyone is assumed alive unless otherwise stated.

Haute Couture

 

“Qui-Gon are you sure this is quite necessary?”

“It is our best chance at preserving diplomatic negotiations.”

“I understand that, but… this all seems very… discomforting...”

“Need I remind you, you're not the one required to wear the dress, Obi-Wan?”

Qui-Gon looked to his former padawan with raised eyebrows, and Obi-Wan had to fight not to squirm under the piercing gaze.

He didn't want his former master to know how hard he was trying to avoid unbecoming thoughts.

The mission to Venaschea was going just about as well as they expected.

Caught in the midst of a civil war, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had been sent to oversee the negotiations for a ceasefire, at the behest of the current reining Queen. It was a simple enough assignment, and a well-deserved rest-period for the Jedi team who found themselves more often than not assigned to missions on a more galactic scale

A formidable race, the Venachean's were tall humanoid beings, possessed of sharp senses and immense physical strength. Qui-Gon had fit right in amongst the populace, and could easily have been mistaken for a native save for his beard (the Venachean's grew no facial hair) and lack of a second opposable thumb.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, could not. Shorter than even the shortest adult on the planet, and broader than any of the children, he was in no danger of blending in.

When the first assassination attempt had been made on the Queen, no one had been very surprised, and no one had suffered more than minor scrapes and bruises. Prudently, they increased security, using both local and offworld guards. Both sides of the civil war were amenable to negotiations, so it was suspected that the assassination attempt was from a rogue group looking to profit from the continued war.

The second attempt had been closer, and three guards had lost their lives, along with the Queen suffering a blaster hit to the shoulder. It would scar, but it mostly just angered the intimidating woman, and she had to be physically restrained from going after the attempted assassin herself.

The third attempt in as many days was only foiled by Qui-Gon's prescience and his inability to let Obi-Wan lead the way into an elevator bound for the negotiation chambers. Ten seconds after the elevator doors closed and headed up, an explosion rocked the building, and black smoke poured out from the wreckage of the unoccupied elevator pod.

Someone didn't want the Queen to make it to the negotiations.

So the talks were rescheduled and a new plan was debated.

From their experience many years before with Queen Amidala, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan formulated a plan. There was no precedent on Venaschea for use of decoys in royal proceedings, so it seemed the prudent course of action was to disguise the real Queen and send her off with a trusted guard on a detour to the chambers. And leave a disguised decoy to draw any violent action.

She was not best pleased at the idea of donning 'civilian' clothes, but eventually saw the logic in the plan and cautiously agreed.

Of course, that meant they needed a decoy. Someone who looked close enough to the Queen to fool distant onlookers long enough for the real Queen to make it to the negotiations.

Preferably someone who was already within the inner circle of knowledge.

Obi-Wan had no idea why, when the issue was broached, everyone's eyes turned on his former Master.

Qui-Gon, however, had the cool expression of a man already resigned to his fate.

So that was how Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn found himself being bound into one of Queen Dritcha's formidable royal gowns. And he suddenly had a very real appreciation for the sheer amount of _effort_ Padme put into her time as Queen.

It had already taken over two hours, and he had been pulled and prodded and positioned so often he felt as though he had gone eight rounds against Mace Windu and **not** emerged victorious.

Fortunately, or not, Qui-Gon and the Queen were fairly well matched in height and build, and even their hair was of similar colour and length. Once brushed out, the maiden's were sure his hair could be styled well enough to fool even the most keen eyes.

His facial hair, of course, was a dead give away, but masks and scarves were not uncommon on Venaschea, so they were sure it would not be an issue.

Obi-Wan had left to arrange the rest of the plan whilst Qui-Gon got ready, and when he returned he had to fight not to blush all the way up to hairline.

He was a Jedi Knight, and this was a mission. They were professionals, and this was necessary, and the best course of action.

But _Force_ if he wasn't getting all kinds of mixed feelings seeing his former Master almost transformed into the Queen.

The ornate dress was made of various flattering shades of pale blue, and covered Qui-Gon from neck to toe. The large skirt burst from the bottom edge of the stiff bodice and trailed to the floor, longer at the back to create an elongated swallow-tail train.

The bodice was a shade darker than the rest of the fabric, embroidered with stylised wildflowers, and pulled tight around Qui-Gon's torso. From the stiff way he held himself, Obi-Wan guessed there was a boned corset somewhere under there, but Qui-Gon was offering no complaints.

The sleeves were long and loose to hide his hands, and the neck fastened high around his neck.

Obi-Wan knew that this outfit had not been the handmaiden's first choice, but there had been only one thing Qui-Gon had not been willing to compromise.

“ _Master Jedi, may we shave you?”_

“ _No.”_

And so they had had to pick a less revealing dress, one that would hide his broad chest.

As Obi-Wan fought to find his words, the handmaiden's were just finishing the final touches, pinning an ornate headdress of live flowers onto Qui-Gon's styled hair. From what Obi-Wan could tell, his former Master's hair had been curled into loose ringlets, and then half of them pulled up to bunch under the headdress, giving the illusion of supporting the decoration.

It certainly wasn't as decorative and unwieldy as some of Queen Amidala's outfits, but he was sure she would not have turned her nose up at it.

“We must depart soon if we are to remain on-schedule,” Obi-Wan finally said after clearing his throat.

He saw Qui-Gon nod, although the movement was minute. The Jedi Master was obviously wary of the weight upon his head.

“I believe we are nearly done?” He directed the question to the handmaidens, and they all made various noises that didn't really hedge one way or the other.

“We really should--”

“It would look better if--”

“I don't know--”

“We're done,” Qui-Gon told them, and turned slowly to look fully at Obi-Wan.

The younger man was dressed in the typical royal guards outfit, and Qui-Gon had to fight not to let his emotions show on his face. He hoped the sharp inhale he'd taken at seeing Obi-Wan in the uniform had gone unnoticed.

Obi-Wan looked _damn_ good out of his usual Jedi robes, instead dressed in the dark red military style garb of the palace guard. The tailored jacket accentuated Obi-Wan's broad shoulders and narrow waist, and the cap perched atop his head pulled back his hair and revealed piercing blue eyes over his neatly-groomed beard.

“The rest of the guards are waiting outside. We'll be taking a direct route to the landing pad,” Obi-Wan informed Qui-Gon, both maintaining their professionalism, as was their training.

Qui-Gon nodded again, lifting a hand to the soft fabric hanging at his ear and pulling it over his face, clipping it to a hook on the opposite side.

“Then let us go,” he suggested, walking toward Obi-Wan and the door, and trying not to look as discomforted as he felt without his lightsaber at his hip. He knew Obi-Wan was holding it, disguised under his jacket with his own, but he was still uneasy not having it to hand.

“That does not look comfortable,” Obi-Wan whispered as his former Master drew up beside him, trying not to smirk as he reached to open the door with a bow. As would be expected of a guard for his Queen.

“I've worn worse,” Qui-Gon said with no explanation as he stepped through the door into the midst of dozen-strong guards who were awaiting to escort the 'Queen' to the landing pad.

The journey to the transport went smoothly until they were approximately half way through the palace grounds.

“We're being followed,” Obi-Wan murmured at Qui-Gon's side.

They were maintaining a brisk pace, matching the 'Queen's' long stride that Obi-Wan had to admit was a match for the real Queen's own gait.

His only answer from Qui-Gon was an almost imperceptible nod.

Obi-Wan checked his chronometer, “Queen Dritcha should already be at the negotiations by now, I suggest we forgo this charade before we put the rest of the guards in danger.”

Another nod, and Obi-Wan turned his head to murmur to the security chief at his other side.

At the next forked junction the group abruptly went from a brisk walk to a startling sprint; the guards going one way, and the Jedi the other. As soon as they split, blaster fire erupted and exploded against the wall behind them as their pursuers attempted a final assassination attempt upon a Queen they did not yet realise was a decoy.

At least they weren't going after the guards though. Both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had been aggrieved of the senseless death of the guards in the second attempt.

They ran at a good speed until they were sure the guards were out of danger, leading the assassins through the maze of corridors in the palace.

“Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan skidded to a stop when his former Master did, his eyes going wide when he thought he saw a hint of a blush on his former-Master's face.

“You will not tell Tahl about this,” Qui-Gon told Obi-Wan as he reached down to gather the edge of the encumbering skirt into one hand, lifting it off to the side. “It is more difficult to run in than I anticipated,” he grumbled in explanation, and Obi-Wan's laughter was cut of as their pursuers caught up to them and he had to duck a blaster bolt.

“I'd say it's time we got out of here and let the palace guards do their job,” Obi-Wan suggested with a grin, and Qui-Gon nodded. The guards were under instruction to follow at a safe distance until a situation presented itself to arrest the assassins.

“Let's go.”

With a burst of Force-enhanced speed, the Jedi found their way deep into the palace, and then hid themselves behind the nearest door away from all (suspected hacked) security cameras, and away from any potentially disloyal palace employees.

Unfortunately the door they found themselves behind was a small linen closet, and whilst warm and comfortable, there was not a lot of room to manoeuvre. Especially considering the extensive nature of Qui-Gon's gown.

“Now it is up to Queen Dritcha,” Qui-Gon said softly, voice a little muffled behind the drape over his face, his eyes peering out between the slats on the door to make sure they were no longer being followed.

Obi-Wan reached up to unhook the cloth over Qui-Gon' face with a soft laugh, drawing the older man's attention.

“I know we've donned disguises before, but it is still odd to see you like this,” Obi-Wan admitted, voice quiet, and Qui-Gon looked down at him with a curious expression.

“You're uncomfortable?” He asked, half questioning, half amused accusation.

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan's hand slide back into his styled hair, “I didn't say _that_ ,” he admitted, applying gentle pressure to pull Qui-Gon down towards him.

They kissed softly at first, slowly re-familiarising themselves with each other after over a week of professional distance. But that soon changed to something more heated as Qui-Gon pressed himself forward against Obi-Wan, hands sliding around the younger man's back and pulling him close.

“You should keep this uniform,” Qui-Gon rumbled against Obi-Wan's mouth when they parted for air, large hand slipping up under his jacket and untucking his shirt to press up over the bare skin of his back.

“Mmm… you like it?” Obi-Wan hummed as Qui-Gon pressed scratchy kisses across his cheek, and his former-Master made an agreeing noise. They would have to hide the clothes in their quarters back at the temple, of course. A nosey cleaning droid had once asked _far_ too many uncomfortable questions about why Obi-Wan wanted to keep the tight-fitting leather Bounty-Hunter disguise he had once needed on a mission.

Obi-Wan moved one hand up through Qui-Gon's hair until he encountered the many pins that were holding the ornate headpiece in place. As one they decided it simply _need_ _ed_ _to go_ , and they separated far enough for them both to pluck the pins from Qui-Gon's hair so the headdress could be cast aside.

Without the pins, Qui-Gon's long hair tumbled down about his broad shoulders in styled waves, and Obi-Wan regarded him with adoring eyes.

“This mission certainly has some perks,” Obi-Wan murmured, and Qui-Gon breathed a laugh.

“I'm glad you appreciate it,” he said softly, reaching to take the cap from Obi-Wan's head and drop it to the floor, running long fingers through his auburn hair. Encouraged by the attention, Obi-Wan leaned forward to bury his face against Qui-Gon's neck, inhaling deeply.

The Venaschean's had an acute sense of smell, so during diplomatic proceedings it wasn't uncommon for those present to douse themselves in perfume to hide any revealing scents of fear of upset. Qui-Gon had wrinkled his nose as the handmaidens had layered scents upon him, but Obi-Wan had to admit that he was not adversed to it in the slightest.

“Mmm, you smell _so good,”_ Obi-Wan spoke against Qui-Gon's skin, hands sliding around his tightly bound waist and up his back, feeling the cords of the corset under the decorative bodice.

“At least you think so,” Qui-Gon rumbled, teeth nipping at the shell of Obi-Wan's ear and drawing a hum of pleasure from the younger man.

Despite his strength, Qui-Gon found could not bend well in the restrictive clothes, and was stuck in a mostly upright standing position. A predicament that was starting to frustrate him, and something Obi-Wan immediately noticed.

“Is there any reason you need to stay in this now?” Obi-Wan murmured, fingers already finding the fastenings to the dress at Qui-Gon's back.

“I assure you I would not still be wearing it if I had any idea how to get out on my own,” Qui-Gon laughed against Obi-Wan's hair, “short of using my lightsaber.”

Obi-Wan laughed and then set about making quick work of the bindings on the dress, pulling them apart roughly with no consideration for damaging the fabric. Qui-Gon quickly and gratefully pulled his arms from the garment, the top of the dress falling forward over the skirts.

And revealing the deep blue, stiffly boned corset pulled tight around his ribs and abdomen that looked not in the least bit comfortable but did something to Obi-Wan he wasn't expecting.

“You're blushing, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon rumbled with heated amusement, and Obi-Wan dragged his gaze from the corset to look up into his eyes.

“I…uh,” he struggled to remember how to form words, “It's just… well...” He couldn't really explain it, there was just _something_ about seeing Qui-Gon bound into the tight garment that _did_ something to him.

“As much as I'd love to stay in it for your pleasure,” Qui-Gon continued, cupping Obi-Wan's heated face, “it's actually very uncomfortable.”

Still, he looked pleased by Obi-Wan's reaction, and decided it might just be worth keeping that particular piece of undergarment.

Obi-Wan recovered himself quickly and turned his head to press a kiss to Qui-Gon's palm, “Let's get you out of it then,” he suggested with a sultry smirk, using his hands on the tall man's hips to indicate he should turn around.

Qui-Gon did so, bracing himself against the wall so Obi-Wan could get a good hold of the fastenings.

The corset had no less than 100 tiny eyelets fastened with a thin but strong cord, and it took Obi-Wan many frustrating minutes to figure out how to get the corset to unlace enough to get Qui-Gon out of it.

It wasn't until he started to loosen it that he realised just how much the stiff garment was distorting Qui-Gon's figure, cinching him unnaturally at the waist to give the allusion that his narrow hips were wider than they really were.

The pleased noise the tall Jedi Master rumbled as the corset loosened bit by bit was the most erotic thing Obi-Wan had ever heard.

And once the offending corset was finally loose enough to pull off over Qui-Gon's shoulders, Obi-Wan could appreciate why.

The garment had left red pressure marks all over Qui-Gon's torso where the seams and cords had pressed and held against his skin. Many long straight lines marked at even intervals around his abdomen, and there was a criss-cross pattern where the bindings had pressed tight against his spine. It was here Obi-Wan leaned forward to lay firm kisses against the abused flesh, his beard scratching against the sensitive skin of Qui-Gon's back and drawing a surprised gasp from the taller man.

Obi-Wan slid his hand around to the firm muscles of Qui-Gon's stomach, fingers splaying to run over every impression and welt left by the garment.

Qui-Gon inhaled deeply, appreciating the freedom to do so now his ribs weren't constricted, and Obi-Wan put a hand to his solar plexus to pull his back against his chest. They breathed together for many long seconds, Obi-Wan's hands caressing the skin under his palms, mouth against the back of Qui-Gon's neck.

Once he was free of the feeling of constriction, Qui-Gon turned to meet Obi-Wan in a heated kiss, hands making short work of his jacket as claimed Obi-Wan's mouth with clear intention.

His shirt followed the jacket onto the floor, and then Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon press him back into the wall, hands sliding down his legs to lift him with practiced ease.

Obi-Wan wrapped his legs around Qui-Gon's hips as their bare torso's pressed together, his hands resting on Qui-Gon's broad shoulders. A pleased hum went between their joined mouths as Qui-Gon rocked their hips together, an enjoyable frisson of pleasure washing over their exposed skin.

Obi-Wan slid one hand up into Qui-Gon's hair, fisting tightly as he angled up to dominate the kiss and drawing a rumble of pleasure from the older man.

He could feel Qui-Gon's intention pressing up between his legs, and a low moan of frustration escaped the younger Jedi.

Regretfully, Obi-Wan pulled back. His mouth was pinked, cheeks flushed, and he looked at Qui-Gon like he would rather say anything than what he was about to.

“As much as I would love to finish this...” he paused with a distracted groan as Qui-Gon rolled their hips together again with every intention of stalling his words.

“ _Qui-Gon,”_ Obi-Wan bit out in in exasperation, “We have a mission to complete. We should make sure the negotiations are underway...”

They were Jedi. Proffessionals. They had had time to spare, but now that time was over and they had a mission to finalise.

Obi-Wan felt more than heard Qui-Gon sigh in agreement, but accepted one more deep lingering kiss as he lowered his legs back to the ground, trying his very best to ignore his arousal.

“We _will_ finish this later,” Obi-Wan assured Qui-Gon, relieved by the amused chuckle the taller man emitted.

“There was never any doubt in my mind, Obi-Wan.”

They redressed quickly lest their attraction get the better of them, although Qui-Gon noticeably did not even pretend to consider putting the corset back on.

Obi-Wan tried to ignore his pang of lust at seeing the top of the dress stretched over Qui-Gon's masculine form, which was much more prominent without the distortion of the corset.

Qui-Gon did have to ask Obi-Wan's help fasten the bodice at back, since it was utterly impossible to do himself.

They retrieved the discarded headdress and hat from the ground, and Obi-Wan handed Qui-Gon his lightsaber since they no longer had to preserve the illusion of disguise. They shared one last brief kiss, made sure they both were presentable, before finally exiting to the closet to discover whether or not their plan had succeeded.


End file.
